


Restoration

by bluetears07



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bloodplay, M/M, Ownership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetears07/pseuds/bluetears07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Set During Blade II: Frost goes to reclaim what is rightfully his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: 2005

 

“Tear it the fuck apart.” Frost seethed, his ice blue eyes giving away none of the fury that contorted his cold voice. A quick, tense sweep of his arm, and he motioned for his men to fan out and destroy the cluttered garage the Daywalker used as a base of operations. He paused, tugging anxiously at the crisp white collar of his half open button-down, waiting for his men to obediently snap into action. Breathing in deeply several times, Deacon attempted to calm the conflagration threatening to consume him whole. The single feeling, the raw need, surging with new life and to previously unreachable heights, was all he could focus on as he caught the familiar metallic scent of blood.

He was there. Somewhere.

“Deac-” A blatant objection and questioning of authority. Quinn knew exactly why they were there and wanted to turn back now before he lost another appendage he would have to replace later—wasn’t worth it for a filthy Familiar who Mr. Deacon Frost just happened to like to fuck.

“Do it, Quinn.” Deacon snarled deep in the back of his throat, head snapping in Quinn’s direction; a few gelled strands of light brunette hair skidding across his forehead in tune with the quick motion. His eyes flashed with a fierce warning as he bared his glinting fangs, elongated to nearly full length in agitation mingled closely with anticipation and pent up sexual frustration. With a shallow breath from Frost, the band of vampires spread out; destroying anything and everything they got their hands on. As soon as Deacon was sure that Quinn would not disobey or question his order again, Frost turned his full attention towards the rusted stairway that lead up to the second floor of the building, the edges of his pale lips curling up in pure pleasure.

Sallow, pink rimmed flesh veiled piercing blue irises, head tipping back slightly as Deacon surrendered to the advantages of his vampire instinct. The dark, inky black leather was stiff and cool against the naturally chilled flesh of his fingers as he rifled around in his coat pocket for a cigarette. Blindly fumbling until finding the small pack, Frost drew one out and placed it between his ashen lips. A few short sniffs of the blood tainted air, mixed with a slight tang of fear, sweat and a sweet pulsing undercurrent of eagerness and Frost knew exactly where his prey was waiting patiently for him to discover. Hard eyes snapped open as he started walking briskly towards the stairway, carefully avoiding the debris of various dismantled electronics and smashed vials containing strange colored liquid now littering the floor. Several squeaks and whines emitted from the rusted framework of the stairs as Frost walked up them, taking two at a time in quick strides. An intense look of concentration carved into his every feature as he climbed the stairs. In that moment if one of the other vampires had tried to interfere or objected he would have bitten through flesh, muscle and bone regardless of who they were in order to complete his mission.

Once reaching the second level, he took a few steps into the tell-tale cluttered workspace, several hard drives and frayed wires along with various components used to make weaponry were strewn throughout the room. Deacon knew just from the image of the disorganized worksite that the room belonged to his property. A nearly imperceptible, yet wholly genuine smile curled up the corners of Frost’s mouth, gently bobbing the waiting cigarette with the slight movement of pale lips. Ignoring the rising pressure of his inflamed libido, he sensed the human he was seeking shift from his hiding place in the shadows. Deacon lit up the cigarette with slow deliberate actions, confirming his own level of self-control and restraint. It was first the sharp scent of silver cutting through the air that caught his attention, followed by the metallic click of a loaded gun cocking. Calmly, he drew in a long drag of toxic smoke into his lungs. With a heavy sigh, plume of hazy smoke leaking through the small space between his lips, Deacon finally spoke in a low, yet commanding murmur.

“Drop it, Josh.” The words slipped off Frost’s tongue with an ease he had forgotten, though Scud’s proper name seemed cumbersome on his lips. Tilting his head to the side, pressing his pallid cheek against his shoulder and exposing the pale column of his throat, Deacon stared at his Familiar with dark, raised eyebrows. He could sense the immediate reaction radiating from the human’s anxious form, his pulse jumping up a notch higher than it had been a moment before; he could almost feel the tightening of Scud’s chest within his own. Frost knew exactly how his eyes pierced right through Scud; the human had told him so on several occasions before he had left a month prior to work as Frost’s ‘field agent.’ He had said it seemed as if Deacon’s eyes were always searching to gaze upon a human soul and, once they had softened and lost their intensely hard cut edge, took solace in the fact he could see Scud’s.

However, there was something different in the thinly guarded look resonating just beneath the surface of Scud’s bright eyes. It disturbed Deacon, striking a hidden nerve, eliciting the tremble of an inquisitive eyebrow, the only give away that he was being affected by Scud’s lack of obedience. An inner struggle was taking place within the human’s mind as he debated with himself as to whether or not he would give into Frost’s will. The vampire could see reflected in Scud’s blue eyes every lie, every line of slander against the ‘infamous Deacon Frost’ that the Daywalker had filled Scud’s mind with. Battle seeming to rage silently within Scud, the Familiar’s eyes flickered over every inch of Deacon’s lithe body, lingering on his pale but perfect lips, knowing just what terrors and pleasures could be the product of that talented mouth, lips, tongue and teeth, _especially_ Frost’s teeth.

Slowly, Scud relaxed his grip on the gun, the shining barrel dipping steadily lower and lower as the Familiar conceded to the vampire’s demands. A slow burning grin tugged at the corners of Deacon’s lips as he watched his human bend to his will. His fingers curled around the filter of his cigarette and pulled it away from his mouth, a thin ribbon of smoke issuing from his smirking lips. Finally, with an echoing clatter of metal scrapping against concrete, Scud released the gun from his fingers and let it fall to the ground, his gaze never straying from Deacon’s. His hand fell back to his side, hanging there limply against the filthy coat hanging off his frame. It was then that Frost noticed the sliver of a cut along Scud’s cheekbone, a few wayward beads of enticing, crimson blood swelling over the sliced edge of skin and dripping gradually down the warm flesh. Unconsciously, a slick, cold tongue slipped from Frost's mouth, running against the frigid flesh of his lower lip and coating the yielding skin with a thin sheen of smoke tainted saliva.

“What are you doing here, man?” Scud asked in a conspirator’s whisper, leaning towards Frost and glancing around anxiously waiting for the other vampires to stumble across them, or worse the Daywalker. He winced as he watched the obvious displeasure flit over Deacon’s face upon hearing the human’s vernacular digress back to the stoner drawl he had possessed ages ago when he had first met Frost. As soon as the words had left his lips he instantly regretted speaking them. Frost flicked the smoking cigarette away in one fluid movement, not giving a second thought to where it could land, before rounding on Scud. In three short, quick strides, Frost had Scud slammed up against the iron support beam running up through the floor from the first level up to the ceiling. The harsh pressure of the vampire’s thumb pressed tight against the line of Scud’s jaw, his fingers curling beneath the man’s chin and around to dig into the soft flesh of the human’s unmarred cheek, framing the his face in one hand. He tipped the man’s head back and to the side, gazing down at the fine line of blood trickling down the human’s cheek. Shifting his hips in a slow, erotic grind he pressed the sharp edge of his hipbone against Scud’s and watched as bright blue eyes rolled slightly to the back of his head at the sensation. Before Scud had a moment to catch his breath, he felt the familiar chill of Frost’s breath, coming in quick puffs of intensified arousal, skidding over his flesh in a fluid torrent of long pent up emotion.

“You’re _mine_.” Deacon whispered fiercely, voice husky and eyes glinting with a thick haze of lust. The roots of his fangs burned with a slight pain as the teeth grew longer with the passion of his outburst. His free hand slipped inside the folds of Scud’s open jacket, pressing against the course fabric of loose jeans. Nimble fingers, dipping below the waistband, traced along predominant hipbones until finding the tiny patch of skin that felt as if it possessed a different texture than the rest. _His_ glyph. Well hidden from all other prying eyes, only for him to see; good placing for espionage work. A sudden flare of possession exploded in the pit of Deacon’s stomach, surging up through his chest and throat until spilling from his mouth with a heated tone twisting his words. “I’m done sharing.” The fluid, chilled flesh of his tongue swiped along the thin cut, lapping up in one slow lick the few drops of blood that had begun to slowly curdle. No where near fresh, warm blood he was used to. It was a bitter, rusted metallic taste assaulting his senses as he brushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, spreading the all-too-familiar underlying taste of Scud throughout his entire mouth, savoring the long denied treat. Just the tip of his tongue ran along the slick surface of his teeth, a razor thin cut slicing across the muscle as he reached the fully elongated fangs.

“Deacon…please…” A low, desperate moan escaped from Scud’s parted lips as he felt Deacon’s grip go lax, his cold fingers slipping lower to wrap loosely around the human’s throat. The tips of his fingers brushed against the dark, shaggy hair that hung low on the back of Scud’s neck. Deacon knew exactly what his pet was begging for. With a purely cocky grin exposing his predominant fangs, he pressed one pale, tapered finger against the juncture of jaw and neck, just over the pounding pulse, and tilted the human’s face back towards his own.

The blossoming of heat started at Frost’s mouth as he pressed his wan lips against Scud’s, drinking in freely the intoxicating flood of real warmth oozing from the man’s body pressed tight against him. The clammy flesh of Frost’s hand was still pressed against the tattooed glyph on Scud’s hip. His entire lithe frame fit comfortably against the placid body locked into place with his back to the beam. It was drastic how different the gentle pressure of Frost’s lips against Scud’s was when compared to the harsh grip he had had on the human’s face moments before. Scud had almost forgotten how that contrasting sensation intensified the already raw, unchained beauty of Deacon’s kisses. With a slow lick against compliant lips, Deacon pressed his bloodied tongue into the warm recesses of Scud’s mouth. He felt the human body sag against his own, muscles failing him for a moment, surrendering to the sheer pleasure as the first taste of vampire blood course through his system. Blunt fingernails dug viciously into the stiff leather stretched taut across his shoulder blades as Scud attempted to steady himself.

“My filthy little human…” Deacon gasped in short spurts of breath between kisses, pressing his body tighter against Scud’s. A few unintelligible moans escaped from the Scud’s mouth, forming incoherent half sentences all beginning with Deacon’s name, were only to be muffled by the slow movement of Frost’s lips against his. Slowly, Deacon began to lose patients with the deep, almost languid kiss, a feral growl rolling low in the back of his throat. The sting of the vampire’s five o’clock shadow only served to couple the rough, dominating nature Deacon’s kisses had digressed to, fading into a pure carnal urge that had to be satisfied. Their teeth clanking together, Frost’s sharpened fangs dragged across flushed and swollen lips, spilling a few more precious drops of warm blood.

“Frost!” Deacon was instantly jolted back into reality as Mercury’s voice, her words twisted by the exotic accent, screamed in his ears.

“Bitch.” Snarling and bearing his fangs once again, Deacon tore his lips away from Scud’s, fury evident in his every movement. Gripping the man’s wrist, faintly feeling the thrumming pulse through the heavy fabric of his jacket, Frost walked quickly towards the stairway.

 

 

Sleek, tan leather, stretched taut over the comfortable posh backseat, clung to the dark material of Deacon’s jacket as he slid in next to a silent Scud. Senses electrified and especially heightened thanks to his current situation, Scud flinched at the tearing sound of leather grating painfully against leather. Flicking the spent filter of a cigarette onto the grimy back ally street, the vampire casually propped one leg on the other, ankle pressed against knee. With a quick glance at his two companions sitting opposite himself and Scud, he leaned towards the open door. Pale fingers, one bound lightly in an old band-aid, masking a thin scar he had gotten before being turned, tugged the car door closed with an agitated snap of his wrist. One last loud click as the door locked into place and instantly a tense, almost unnatural silence swept through the spacious backseat; the dull roar of the car’s engine starting and the quiet sparking of a lighter coming to life the only noise penetrating the false calm.

Eyes focused on the tangle of his own fingers twisting in his lap, Scud felt two pairs of thirsty eyes mapping out the planes of his throat, lingering on the patch of skin thinly covering his thrumming pulse. Scud had always hated Deacon’s closest companions, Quinn and Mercury, especially Mercury, jealous harpy she was, and the feeling had forever been _obviously_ mutual. Pulling one hand away from the other, the human pressed his thumbnail between his lips, biting anxiously at the nub of a nail and finally cast his gaze away from his lap, glancing to the side. A chill of fear ran through his body as he saw the gap of fabric next to his thigh. Glancing up for a moment he saw Deacon sitting with the same nonchalant coolness he had always possessed. The vampire’s leg was propped on the other, lithe frame slouched and molded against the yielding cushion, fingers pressed against his mouth, the tips curled around his jaw as he held a new cigarette. Scud could still feel the vampires’ eyes staring at him intently, always waiting patiently for when the pet would finally begin to bore his master.

Suddenly the distance between himself and Frost seemed _far_ too wide; he needed to be closer, needed to be protected. Before he could act upon his instinct he felt a lean arm wrap around his tense shoulders; pulling the human’s body to press against his side. The familiar chilled flesh pressed against his warm skin, soft fingertips caressing his cheek, skidding along Scud’s face to play against his hairline. With a gentle tug on the man’s scalp, Deacon’s fingers slid into the dark strands of Scud’s hair, brushing them away from his pet’s forehead and exposing bright eyes. Frost’s own piercing eyes flashed with a purely possessive glint as he stared across the backseat at his companions, his gaze never wandering. With the simple contact Scud suddenly felt reassured and safe beneath Deacon’s surprisingly tender touch.

Slowly, the vampire began to card his deft fingers through the strands. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, Frost turned his face towards his pet. His hand still tangled in the human’s hair, thumb stroking along the flushed tip of Scud’s ear, Deacon dipped the man’s head back and to the side, angling it so he could see the cut along his cheek. A ghosting of warm breath tainted by smoke glided over the human’s flesh, curling around the soft, delicate skin of his neck. Scud’s eyes fell shut, unable to withstand the muted fury burning in Mercury’s eyes as Frost lavished attention on him. For the second time that night, Scud felt the tingling of wet skin skidding along his cheekbone. The vampire’s eyes never straying from the two sitting opposite even as he lapped at the dry blood. However, this time the action was not simply for pleasure; it was a warning.

 

 

A rush of cold air slipped from inside and encircled the pair as Frost silently unlocked the door to his rooftop flat. Scud could hear the quiet murmur of water lapping against thick, dark marble echoing in Frost’s dimly lit apartment. Polished shoes clicked loudly against the heavily marbled floor as Deacon walked from the entrance hall into the next room. Walking slowly, the human looked around the apartment, noticing the subtle changes that had taken place while he had been away working in the field for his master. His hand ran along the cold metallic and plaster walls as he came to stop in the doorway between the corridor and the main room where Frost usually hosted his infamous parties. Of course that was the first thing Scud noticed, how empty the rooms looked. It was strange for the human to see Deacon’s apartment so vacant, having been used to usually seeing it full of vampires. However, the classically chic interior, a pristine, almost Spartan look that Deacon was enamored with, was the same as ever. The main room was cast in a pale blue hued light by the filters covering the light bulbs. Tinted light reflecting off the small pond that leaked into the apartment from under the already shut large metal shutter serving as a window, a part of the roof’s layered waterfall, cast an intricate, constantly changing pattern on the wall opposite. The water flowed out from the pond into the apartment via small pathways, outlining the dark marble that made up the floor beneath the main room’s couches, housed beneath a few thick sheets of clear, clean Plexiglas.

Casually tossing his keys into a small metallic bowl beside the plush leather couch with a quiet chink, Deacon paused and looked over his shoulder at Scud. The human was standing awkwardly in the open doorway between the entrance hall and the main room. He saw the man’s hand pressed against the wall, his wrist wrapped in a dark cloth. A strange confused look was flitting over Scud’s face as he watched Frost. Leather jacket thrown carelessly on the arm of the sofa, Deacon tugged at the un-tucked tails of his white collared shirt, straightening the fabric that clung to his thin frame. Cracking his neck with one quick jerk of his head to the right, he brought the smoldering cigarette up to his parted lips. With a short, but deep drag on his cigarette, the vampire held the burning smoke in his lungs as he spoke.

“Scud,” he beckoned in a tight voice, offering the lit cigarette to his Familiar. The thin wisps of airy smoke poured from his pale lips as he exhaled, the plumes curling about his thin face. Deacon waited for his pet to move, a little affronted when the human did not instantly respond. Chewing lightly at the torn flesh of his lower lip, Scud moved quickly from the doorway, crossing the space dividing them and took the offered cigarette from Frost’s fingers, standing close to the vampire as he did so. The same sense of security he had felt in the car when Deacon’s hand slid into his hair filled his entire body, smelling the vampire’s expensive cologne lacing the air between them. Wrapping his lips around the filter and inhaling deeply he could taste the lingering wet residue from his master’s mouth, savoring both its flavor and that of the toxic smoke. “Put it out.” Deacon breathed in Scud’s ear before he stepped a few feet away from the human. Bending at the waist, Scud snubbed the cigarette out in the glass ashtray that lay half full on the slab of marble that was the table sitting off to the side of the leather couch.

Moving again from where he stood, Frost placed a hand on Scud’s shoulders, squeezing lightly with a grin curling his wan lips. The vampire turned so as to sit on the sofa, pulling Scud with him so the human was standing before him. Frost took a short half of a step back, lean calf muscles colliding lightly with the edge of his couch. He looked over his pet for a moment, eyes trailing over every sparse expanse of exposed skin, glossing over the large patches of filthy clothing he would have to replace as soon as possible. Unsure, the human allowed himself to be silently appraised by his master.

Sinfully seductive smirk exposing his elongated and glinting fangs, Deacon sat down in one purposefully languid movement. His hands trailed with painstaking accuracy down his pet’s tight chest, using just the pads of his fingers before halting at the waistband of the human’s jeans. The tips of his pale fingers curled around the hem of the old jeans, brushing against warm skin. Knees open and placed perfectly on either side of Scud’s legs, Frost leaned forward from where he sat on the edge of the couch cushion. Without warning, sharp teeth scrapped against the rusted metal clasp of the human’s baggy, obnoxiously colored pants. Deacon’s mouth opened wider and he easily bit through the few strands of fabric securing the button to the fly of Scud’s jeans.

“Fuck, man.” Scud yelped, jumping away from the playfully smirking, self-satisfied vampire. Laughing in a low tone that bordered on sadism, Deacon leaned back on the sofa, arched his neck and spit the small copper button back at the startled human who was now nervously inspecting his clothing. “That was my last good pair of pants.” The man whined as he tugged at the loose waistband of his pants, now slung low on his hips, only being held together by the fly’s flimsy zipper.

“I own you, Scud…” Frost murmured in a low commanding tone, leaning forward to press his elbows against his knees. The words hung heavy in the air for a moment, forcing the human to look up from mourning his pants. Liquid fire flooded his veins as he recognized the intensity of Deacon’s gaze. Instantly the younger man was drawn back into the pure sexual allure radiating from the vampire. Slowly, the human moved back to where he had been positioned by Frost himself, just within the vampire’s reach. Scud watched Frost’s ashen lips move in slow, undulations actions as he spoke, his deft tongue wrapping around the next few words as if they were made of pure gold.

“Body…” The syllables cut through the air as Deacon’s hand reached out to Scud, starting from jutting hipbone and sliding down the back of the man’s thigh to catch just behind his knee. With a gentle but insistent tug, Deacon pulled Scud’s knee up onto the sofa, sitting back slowly as he pulled the man’s knee until it bent and pressed into the yielding stuffed leather cushion. Deacon brushed the human’s inner thigh along side his outer until the pet caught on to the silent demand and lifted his other leg and pressed it against the opposite side, straddling the vampire’s thin hips and settling himself on Frost’s lap. “Heart and soul.” That was too much. _Too_ human. _Fuck_. Ignoring his slip, his expression never giving away his mild distress, Frost continued the smoldering seduction of his more than willing pet. “Therefore,” the vampire whispered into Scud’s ear, the tip of his wet tongue gliding along the super sensitive shell of the man’s ear. “I don’t think it will be much of a challenge to buy you a new pair.” His cold hands pressed against clothed collarbones before sliding under the unzipped neck of the dirty jacket Scud had forever been attached to, dragging the garment over his shoulders and down his arms until it fell in a heap on the floor. “Plus,” he began, taking on a mock rationalizing tone and setting his face in a serious expression. “It’s not as if you’ll be utilizing them much…” The vampire stated simply, cocking his head to the left and arching his eyebrows in a muted expectant expression, waiting for Scud’s reaction.

“But I really lik—” The human paused as Deacon’s last sentenced processed in his mind; recognizing that there were certain insinuations accompanying the subtly flirtatious remark. “Oh…” A faint flush rose up the back of Scud’s neck, painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears a faint crimson hue that stirred the long ignored, overpowering thirst swelling to the bursting point within Frost. Deacon let an unchecked, amused smile play upon his lips at the sight of Scud’s flushed face before leaning forward to steal a kiss from the embarrassed young man.

The faintest hint of fresh blood laced Scud’s smoke flavored mouth as Frost swiped his tongue softly over the warm flesh of the human’s lower lip. A whimper of surprise was muffled by Frost’s mouth while Scud’s fingers wound themselves tightly in the soft fabric of the vampire’s pristine shirt. Working his jaw, deepening the slow burning kiss, Deacon tipped his head back and caught the human’s lower lip gently between his teeth. Pure ecstasy ran ramped through Frost’s entire body as he began responding to the overpowering heat radiating from Scud’s skin mingled with the searing warmth of arousal burning in the pit of his stomach. His fangs scrapped faintly against the slick skin of Scud’s inner lip, a few droplets of blood mingling between the wet lips of master and pet. A low noise that could have been a purr of pleasure rolled in the back of Frost’s throat as he tasted the thick liquid painting his lips.

The short sting of Deacon’s teeth cutting his skin open was nothing compared to the torrent of excitement that coursed through his body as he heard the soft muffled sound and felt the vampire’s hips shift beneath his own as the first drop of blood hit his tongue. Warm fingers began fumbling blindly with the small, white buttons holding Frost’s tight shirt closed. He carefully slipped one through the hole and then the next, thumbs playing against delectably exposed collarbones, slowly exposing the light dusting of dark hairs on Deacon’s chest. Next, Scud felt a lukewarm hand pressing against the small of his back, the other gripping his exposed hipbone, both pushing and pulling him closer to the eager body beneath him.

“How did you,” he began in a breathy voice as he pulled his lips away from Scud’s, pausing as his breath hitched silently when Scud finally shifted his hips against the vampire’s lap, his pelvis grinding down against Deacon’s aroused cock. A small smile tugged at his pale lips, strangely proud of his little pet for eliciting such a reaction from him in one simple movement. Voice thick with lust and long denied desire, Frost took another hungry kiss from Scud’s proffered lips. “…get left behind?” He asked in a harsh whisper, warm breath mingling with Scud’s, lips brushing against the human’s as he spoke. Scud knew the question referred to Deacon’s curiosity as to why the Daywalker decided to leave Scud guard the garage.

“I—ah!” Scud began, cut off quickly by his own startled yelp when he felt Deacon’s hands slid around to the front of his pants and tug anxiously at the flimsy zipper until it tore open. Regaining his composure, the human smirked vindictively, something his master had taught him a long time ago. With a quick, deft flick of his fingers against the small disk threaded onto Deacon’s shirt, Scud had a strip of the vampire’s chest exposed for his fingers to caress. Still smiling, Scud shot back a small retort that earned him just what he was looking for. “I though you’d know that one, D.” The slang nickname Scud had tried to use a few times in the past only served one purpose anymore; get a rise out of Deacon Frost. Of course it worked like a charm.

“ _Josh_.” The vampire snarled Scud’s proper name in a low warning and, before the human could protest, the tables were turned and he was being pressed into the soft leather cushions of the sofa. A domineering Frost was now crouched over him with a leer and one knee pressed tight against Scud’s confined cock. The open fabric of Frost’s white shirt hung from his lithe frame. Deacon’s breath came in short puffs as he tried to control the urge to simply ravish the man right there, take him exactly how he wanted and knew in the back of his mind he would not, at least that night. There was no need to possess the human’s body that night, he simply wanted to taste and touch the long denied treat. A feral edge that laced his every action as he pressed hands into the cushion on either side of the human’s head. Staring up at his master with a look of intentionally poorly feigned surprise; Scud felt trembling fingertips brush the few strands of dark, damp hair from his eyes, pushing them back and away from his forehead. Those same fingers skidded down along the light sheen of sweat covering Scud’s cheek, sliding to press against the steadily thrumming pulse as he waited for the human to speak.

“Lover,” Scud whispered in a husky, teasing voice as his hips lifted up off the leather sofa in one slow, sensuous buck, his half hardened cock sliding against the length of Deacon’s thigh. A bubble of sweltering heat that had been rapidly expanding in Frost’s stomach exploded as he felt the delicious friction, dragging an almost inaudible moan from his ashen lips. His fingers clenched, sharpened nails digging savagely into the thick leather cushion. Then, Scud’s low voice was murmuring in his ear again, the human’s fingers working at undoing the button clasp of Deacon’s classy black dress pants. “Not fighter,” he said with a flick of his wrist, the button slipping unceremoniously through the hole, though the pants were still hitched up around Deacon’s waist. Warm fingers brushed against the vampire’s predominant hipbones, caressing skin warmed by his own flesh and smiling knowing it was him, the pet, who had branded his master with such imprints of burning heat.

Relaxing his muscles, lowering his body closer to Scud’s, Deacon took one hand from where it had punctured four crescent holes in the thick leather and pressed it against the human’s face. The pad of his thumb caressing cheekbone, the vampire tilted his head and pressed his lips against Scud’s. Lips parting at the same moment, Frost slipped his tongue in the soft heat of his pet’s mouth just as Scud’s own tongue rolled over his and stroked the hypersensitive roof of his mouth. Fighting for space, the thick middle of Deacon’s tongue grazed over his fangs, a drop of blood rolling down the muscle and coating the tip. He ran the very tip of his tongue against the flat, receptive part of Scud’s tongue and instantly felt the human’s hands tighten their grip on his hipbones. With a little flick of his tongue against the vampire’s front teeth, Scud was rewarded with a low growl from Frost, supple legs shifting to straddle the human’s impatiently twitching hips and grind down against them.

Despite being focused entirely on delving into the velvety dark recessed of the human’s moist mouth, the short hairs on the back of Frost’s neck rose to attention as he felt Scud’s fingers trailing up his ribcage. The fingers snaked their way inward, playing against his chest. Knowing exactly what those wandering hands were searching for, Frost tore his lips away from Scud’s, sitting up, straddling the pet’s waist, and caught the roaming hands by the wrists.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Frost murmured, placing both wrists in one hand and holding out his forefinger, moving it back and forth in time with the playful warning sounds. That same finger dipped down to the body beneath him and flicked at the topmost button clasping Scud’s strangely printed shirt closed. “Wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” Deacon asked, cocking his head to the left again for a moment as he spoke. Releasing the human’s wrists, Scud’s hands falling to rest against Frost’s tense thigh muscles, the vampire tugged at one edge of the human’s shirt collar, lifting the fabric away from the body. As he flexed his fingers, one sharp nail grew from his forefinger. He hooked the nail beneath the fabric, pressing it gently against Scud’s skin, pausing so that his pet would understand his intentions exactly.

The man let out a soft breath of air and closed his eyes, surrendering to the slight sting of Deacon dragging his fingernail over just the surface of his skin. Scud knew it was barely enough pressure to leave a mark or scar the next day but that it was surely deep enough to draw blood. Before, back when Scud was his master’s ever devoted pet, he would steel himself and never cry out or flinch as his skin was sliced open, knowing that it was never Deacon’s intention to scar or truly hurt him; it had actually become an erotic sensation to the human after associating it for so long with arousal. But that had been what seemed like to Scud, a lifetime ago.

The tell-tale sound of tearing fabric echoed in the empty apartment as Frost slit open the shirt, shredded slightly off center so that the buttons were still attached but the holes they fit through were not. Suddenly, as Frost’s finger ran lower on Scud’s stomach the human yelped in pain, digging his own blunt, bitten fingernails into the flesh covering the vampire’s hipbones. Startled by the sound of true pain that escaped his pet, Deacon pulled away instantly, sitting back on the man’s lap. The human’s eyes snapped open, looking up apologetically at the vampire as Deacon stared at the still intact fabric covering the warm flesh of Scud’s abdomen. Impatient, Frost ripped open the rest of Scud’s shirt, his eyes flashing with an overprotective glint as he gazed at the marred skin.

“I told those bitches to be careful.” Frost snarled viciously, seething with rage, fangs glinting in the pseudo lighting as his fingertips traced over the thick scars twisting and intertwining along Scud’s stomach. From the looks of the width of the marks Scud must have had to have stitches in for a long time. The human watched silently as his master stared fixedly at the marred skin, his expression unreadable. Chewing nervously at his lower lip, still tasting the vampire’s blood on his tongue, Scud hesitantly reached for Frost’s face but fell back before coming into contact with the cold cheek. A strange feeling curbed Deacon’s anger as he mapped out the mess of cuts and scratches weaving together with his chilled fingertips, caressing the abused flesh.

“Couldn’t,” Scud said in an attempted cocky tone. However, his voice failed him for a moment as Deacon’s back curved and, without warning, the next thing the human knew, open mouthed kisses were being pressed against the skin. The slick, cold sensation of the vampire’s tongue licking over the healed wounds sent a current of warmth buzzing at the base of his spine. “Get enough of the Scud…” He finished, a strained cocky grin pulling at his lips as Deacon’s mouth moved along the winding scars. Deacon’s fingers dipped beneath the loose waistband of Scud’s boxers, tugging at them impatiently; a stark contrast to the gentle laving of the naturally warm skin. Lips trailing up Scud’s body, Frost finally reached where he had drawn the human’s warm blood.

Something in him shifted dramatically, snapping his restraint. His piercing eyes glazed over with an ice blue smokescreen, raw lust and thirst mingled together in one unholy concoction. The look had long since lost its once daunting affect on Scud and instead drew a bold hand to the back of Deacon’s head, fingers tangling in the slightly gelled strands covering the nape of his neck. Before Scud had the chance to breathe, Frost’s tongue was lapping greedily at the viscous liquid that had risen to the surface and spilt over, pooling on the human’s chest. Sweat was beginning to mingle with the thick crimson liquid as a thin sheen of perspiration coated Scud’s chest. Sharp fangs hung on both sides of Frost’s tongue as he drank in the human’s sinfully warm blood. The harsh bite of coppery blood tasted like nothing short of ambrosia on Deacon’s parched tongue. Fingers tightened in the cloth of Scud’s pants as Frost tore the waist to shreds.

The searing flood of arousal burned through his entire body, sending his hips grinding viciously against Scud’s throbbing cock. Deacon’s thin hips began a slow rhythmic thrusting against Scud’s own impatiently twitching pelvis. His painfully hardened cock pressed against the fabric of his tight black dress pants at the sudden friction created, fueled by fresh blood slipping down his throat and coating the insides of his mouth. The overpowering feeling was only to be intensified ten fold by the sensation of his pet’s excitement radiating from the human’s body and mingling with his own. One free hand tugged anxiously at the offending fabric of Deacon’s waistband, freeing the vampire’s confined cock. A muffled hum of approval reverberated in Deacon’s chest as his hands pressed against the cushion, stabling himself with trembling, supple arms. Whimper escaping from the human’s parted lips as he felt the thick heat brush against his hand, his other gripping Deacon’s gelled hair tightly. The vampire’s lips moved up the human’s chest to lick the flesh covering his collarbone. Every last droplet of blood lapped up, Frost sucked at the thin cut, his tongue stroking the ridge were the flesh had been sliced open. The slow bucks of Frost’s hips sped up, evolving into a maddening pace, his sharp hipbones colliding against Scud’s.

A choked, gasping moan poured from Deacon’s lips as his back curved in a perfect arch, head snapped backward, ashen lips stained with blood falling open, parted in a silent snarl of orgasmic climax. His fangs elongated to their full length hung on either side of his tongue, both tinted different shades of crimson with Scud’s blood. Searing liquid slid over the scared flesh of Scud’s stomach as Deacon came hot and hard like he had not for a long time. For what seemed like eternity, Scud was content to watch the vampire’s sweat slicked chest rise and fall in shuddering breathes. However, before he knew it he felt the warmed skin of Deacon Frost pull him under the all consuming tidal wave of pleasure in a few twisting pumps of his deft fingers. Just after the colors emblazoned on the insides of Scud’s eyelids faded into reality he saw Deacon slip his own fingers in his mouth, covered with his pet’s liquid arousal, a feral grin exposing his glinting fangs as he did so.

Sated, Deacon finally collapsed onto the welcoming body of his pet, pressing his stubble covered cheek against Scud’s. For a moment he simply laid their, breath puffing gently against the human’s damp skin. His fingertips gently stroked the soft skin of Scud’s earlobe. The scent of sex hung thick in the air of the living room, clinging to the leather sofa that Deacon would have to have cleaned sometime later. Hitching up his pants, the fabric clinging to his clammy flesh, the vampire pulled his body away from Scud’s and stood before the couch. Fastening the bottom button of his pants so they hung low on his hips, Deacon looked down at his pet. The human’s eyes were already heavy lidded and Frost could see the need for sleep rimming their irises. A small smile curling up his lips, Deacon watched his pet’s eyes flutter shut. Pulling off his mussed shirt, the vampire quickly wiped away the cooling liquid that had smeared on his stomach and turned to soak up that which had pooled on Scud’s. He tossed the shirt on to the floor and slowly, he wrapped an arm around Scud’s shoulders and one beneath his knees.

Silently, the vampire walked, carrying Scud in his arms, down the dark hall to his harsh white, brightly illuminated bedroom. He gently laid the man down onto the soft yielding mattress, expensive silk white sheets covering the crimson one stretched taut over the actual bed. Walking to the other side of the bed, Deacon slipped off his pants and slid in beside his human. The quiet rush of air was the only sound, signaling the lid of his bed was slowly lowering to encapsulate the vampire and his pet. As the lid of his modern coffin locked into place with another subtle burst of air, Deacon wrapped his supple arms around the slumbering human. He pressed a faint kiss against the man’s temple, one kiss that Scud would never know he had received. Smiling, the vampire closed his eyes as darkness surrounded him. For some reason as Deacon drifted off into the first restful sleep since Scud had left he thought of home.


End file.
